


Broken

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: Joe's Son by Mona Ramsey [6]
Category: Highlander: The Series, The Sentinel
Genre: Crossovers: Highlander, Drama, M/M, Multiple Partners, Partner Betrayal, Series: Joes Son, crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-08-28
Updated: 2000-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's in Seacouver, and meets faces new and old.<br/>This story is a sequel to Proof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

 

## Broken

by Mona Ramsey

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/monaram/>

* * *

"Broken"  
by MonaR.  
monaram@yahoo.com

Anyone else might not have immediately noticed the soft, gently wet pressure gliding over his skin; anyone else might have stayed asleep and only slowly awakened to the erotic sensation - anyone but an ex-military cop trained over a number of years to observe everything around him. Throw in the added heightened-senses Sentinel factor, and Duncan didn't stand a chance of taking Jim by surprise.

Not that he didn't gain points in the attempt.

Jim groaned right out loud, digging his fingers deeper into his pillow as Duncan's tongue mapped his lower spine, inch by inch.

After a few seconds, a very amused voice whispered in his ear. "Was that a compliment?"

"It depends," Jim said, without opening his eyes, "on where you were planning on going with it."

"Going? Nowhere. But coming? That's another discussion, entirely." To prove his point, Duncan sank his teeth briefly but firmly into Jim's flank, then soothed the mark with his tongue.

Jim arched up off the bed, still clutching the pillow. "Oh, _god_ \- "

"Now, that was _definitely_ a compliment."

Jim turned over and narrowed his eyes at Duncan's innocent/evil shit-eating grin, just about to retort when he was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

"Damn." Reluctantly, Duncan slid off the bed. Jim leaned back into the pillows and watched him walk across the loft, nude, appreciative of the view if not the sudden distance between them. "Hello?"

The changes in Duncan's face as he listened and spoke made the tone of the conversation patently obvious. "Uh-oh, somebody's unhappy," Jim said, shaking his head.

"Was that _this_ morning?" Duncan asked into the phone.

"Make that, very unhappy."

"Couldn't we resched - " Duncan didn't even get the entire word out of his mouth. "No, of course not. Yes, I understand that you're only here because I asked you to - Yes, no. No, don't go. I'll be there in twenty minutes." He hung up the phone. "Damn."

"Forget something?" Jim asked, with a sunny grin.

"You," Duncan accused, pointing a finger at him. "You distracted me."

" _I_? The last thing I remember, I was asleep."

Duncan was not to be denied. "You were supposed to be coming today, not yesterday."

"I don't remember hearing any complaints when I showed up on your doorstep last night," Jim reminded him. He casually re-settled himself on the bed, on his stomach. "I wanted to surprise you."

"You succeeded - in not only surprising me, but in driving every other rational thought out of my head."

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for - wait, let me guess." Jim pretended to think. "Blonde, brunette, or redhead?"

"What makes you so sure it was a woman?"

"Please. Anyone who could chew you out like that on the phone at - " he glanced at the clock " - nine-forty-five in the morning _has_ to be a woman."

"Well - it is, actually," Duncan allowed. "Brunette, the last time I saw her. It was Amanda."

"Ah," Jim nodded. "You'd better be going, then. Unless she's not the type of Immortal to come over here and try to lop your head off for standing her up?"

"Damn," Duncan muttered again, under his breath, and strode for the bathroom.

Jim laughed, and closed his eyes. He was officially on vacation for the next five days, had gotten a last-minute red-eye flight to Seacouver last night rather than wait for today, and wasn't at all inclined to get up anytime soon. He'd gotten in pretty late, and his 'surprise' early arrival at Duncan's loft had been received _very_ favourably - meaning that he'd only had a very few of hours of sleep before Duncan's impromptu wake-up call.

The next thing Jim knew, he was blinded by a warm, wet towel that landed squarely on his head. "Hey!"

"Sorry, did that hit you?" Duncan grinned at him. He was putting on about three articles of clothing at once. "I don't suppose you want to come with me?"

"Somehow, I don't think _this_ is the right morning for me to meet Amanda."

"No, it would be perfect," Duncan said. "That way, I could show her the very reason that I'm so late. Plus, she's been dying to meet you."

"Have you been discussing me with her?" Jim asked, delighted. "Do tell."

"You may have come up once or twice," Duncan said. "In passing."

"As lovely as the invitation is, I'm not in the mood to be a scapegoat, thanks," Jim retorted. "Besides, I need at least four more hours of sleep." He rolled over on his back and tucked his hands underneath his head. "Somebody kept me up almost all night."

"I don't remember hearing any complaints at the time," Duncan said, and sat down on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on.

"Oh, believe me, that was _not_ a complaint," Jim said, leaning over to capture Duncan's mouth in a lazy kiss. "Just a simple statement of fact. I'm beat."

"Go back to sleep, then," Duncan said. "I'll probably be a couple of hours with Amanda, at least. It'll probably take her an hour just to chew me out properly for nearly standing her up."

Before he could get up, Jim grasped him around the neck and pulled him back for another, deeper kiss. Duncan gave him a questioning glance, and Jim smiled. "Just consider that a reminder not to be _too_ long," he said.

"I'll bring back lunch," Duncan promised, and added, "Sweet dreams."

* * *

Jim surprised himself by actually sleeping another several hours; he was so used to working early morning hours most of the time that it was nice to just relax and know that he didn't _have_ to be anywhere. Duncan still hadn't returned when he woke up, so he puttered around the kitchen, making coffee and grabbing some fruit for a very late breakfast. He was just rinsing off in the shower when his extra-sensitive hearing caught the unmistakable sound of the elevator coming up, and he smiled to himself. "Perfect timing," he yelled around the shower curtain. "I think I missed a spot."

"MacLeod?"

Time stopped dead for a minute, and Jim stood stock-still in the shower, with the water beating down over him, not moving a muscle. He couldn't pretend to himself that he didn't know that voice; not even the noise of the shower could muffle it, not to _him_. He listened for another breathless second, trying to discern not who was out there this time, but how many.

One heartbeat.

Jim shook his head, ostensibly to get the water out of his eyes, turned around one last time, and then shut the faucet off and stepped out of the tub. He rubbed a towel over his head and then shrugged into a robe of Duncan's and walked into the loft.

The man standing there betrayed no surprise, either at Jim _or_ his casual appearance; at least, nothing flickered over his face, or his eyes, which narrowed only slightly for a second or two. He didn't speak again, obviously waiting for Jim to make the first move.

Jim obliged him. "Duncan isn't here," he said, pleased that his jaw didn't tighten and his voice sounded normal - at least, to his own ears.

"No. I suppose I should have called first."

"I expect him back any time. I thought you were him, actually, when I heard the elevator come up."

Methos frowned. "When you heard the - oh, of course. You would have heard it, wouldn't you?"

Jim nodded his head. He walked over to the kitchen and picked up his cup from the counter. "Coffee?"

"Thanks." Methos accepted the cup Jim handed over and spooned sugar and cream into it. "Well," he said, after taking a sip, "aren't we being civilized?"

Jim chuckled, humourlessly. "What are the alternatives? Pistols at dawn?" He took his mug and sat down in a leather chair.

Methos dropped onto the couch, directly opposite. "Nothing like that," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if you'd taken a swing at me, though. At the very least."

"I would have," Jim said, simply. "Been surprised, I mean. A couple of months ago - a couple of weeks ago - I might have done that very thing. Hell, a couple of months ago, I wouldn't have said no to pistols at dawn."

"But that was a couple of months ago."

Jim nodded. "Yeah."

"I don't know if I should say this," Methos said, noting how Jim stiffened just perceptibly as he spoke, "but I will, anyway: I am sorry. Not about _what_ happened," he added, quickly, "but, rather, _how_ it happened."

Jim nodded again. "How is Blair?" he asked, again waiting for an internal reaction that didn't come.

"He was fine, the last time I saw him." Methos set his mug down on the coffee table. "That was two - two and a half weeks ago, I suppose."

Mentally calculating the date - two and a half weeks ago would have been almost exactly seven months since Blair had left Cascade - Jim asked, "I take it things didn't work out, then?"

Methos didn't answer that for a moment. "They worked out - as I thought they probably would." He frowned. "I don't know if I can explain what I mean by that - "

"I don't think you have to," Jim stopped him. He stood up, his coffee cup empty.

"No, I suppose I don't," Methos agreed. He laced his fingers around his mug, warming them. "And how is MacLeod?"

"I think he's good," Jim said, pouring himself more coffee and rinsing the empty carafe. "But like I said, I expect him back at any moment, and then you can see for yourself."

Methos shook his head. "No, I don't think I'll wait. Places to go, people to - " He trailed off, and then stood up. "I came," he said, digging in a jean pocket, "to leave these. I should have given them back the last time I saw him, but - I didn't." He held out a set of keys to Jim; when Jim didn't take them, Methos set them down on the kitchen counter, and picked up a large backpack he'd dropped on the floor near the elevator. "Thanks for the coffee."

"You should wait," Jim said, his jaw tight. "You should talk to him. He'd want to talk to you."

"I don't think you're right," Methos said, "but even if you are, I'm not going to stay." He paused at the door to the stairs. "Tell him - what I told you," he said, and then he was gone.

* * *

It was another half hour after Methos left before Jim realized that he was still clad only in a still-damp robe, and rummaged through his bag to find something to wear. He re-made the bed and cleaned up the kitchen before he heard the tread downstairs, across the dojo floor, and then the noise of the elevator starting its journey up.

Duncan wasn't alone, but accompanied by a very attractive, leather-miniskirted brunette who Jim knew instinctively _had_ to be the infamous Amanda. He'd heard enough about her from Joe and Richie and Duncan himself to be completely unprepared for - and a little apprehensive at - meeting her in person.

He found that he needn't have worried. "You know, with the exception of myself, I always thought your taste was questionable at best, Duncan," Amanda said, when she was ensconced on the sofa with a large brandy in her hand. "But, mmm, seeing your latest, I just may have to re-think that." She leaned and put a hand conspiratorially on Duncan's thigh. "He's yummy."

Jim started to laugh just as Duncan whispered in her ear, "I'm pretty sure he can hear you, Amanda."

"I could leave the room, if you'd prefer to have this discussion in private," Jim said, growling outwardly, but inwardly rather wildly amused.

"Oh, no, no, no," Amanda insisted. "The three of us _must_ have dinner tonight, and get _much_ better acquainted." She disentangled herself from Duncan and dropped herself down on the arm of the chair where Jim was sitting. "The things I could tell you about Duncan - well, we'll send _him_ away one of these days and have a private chat, shall we?"

"Absolutely," Jim said, at the exact same time that Duncan said, "I _don't_ think that would be a good idea."

"I'll call you," Amanda whispered to Jim. "Don't get yourself all ruffled, Duncan. You I'll only tell him what I think he needs to know. No state secrets."

"Don't believe a word she says," Duncan warned.

"I make no promises in advance," Jim said.

"Oh, I _am_ going to like you. You're going to be fun, aren't you?" Amanda wrinkled her nose. "You know, you aren't at _all_ what I expected."

"Is that a compliment?" Jim asked.

"Well, when one hears the words 'detective' and 'former military man' used to describe a person, one doesn't usually add 'for a good time call' to the mix. Having seen you in person, I'm absolutely prepared to be swept off my feet."

Duncan obliged her by pulling her off the chair and giving her a mild swat on the behind. "Stop flirting with my - " He paused, at a sudden loss for words.

"Your - " Amanda prodded, gleefully. "Friend? Boyfriend? Lover? Come on, I _know_ you must have a word in mind."

"With Jim," Duncan said, finally. "I have plenty of words for _you_ , but I won't say any of them in mixed company."

"Tease." Amanda sat back down on the couch. "Well, you must take me for a wonderful lunch after that horrible _late_ breakfast I suffered through."

"Which I am never going to hear the end of, right?"

"Maybe."

"Do you two ever stop?" Jim asked, with a laugh.

"No," Duncan said, at the same moment that Amanda added, "Not if we can help it."

* * *

It was, without a doubt, the longest lunch that Jim had ever sat through - stretching through the late afternoon and well into the dinner hour. Duncan and Amanda exchanged verbal volleys and a lot of laughter, and they all drank far too much wine. Luckily, there was almost enough food added in to stave off complete alcoholism.

Afterwards, they cabbed over to Joe's, where Joe and Richie exchanged hugs and greetings with Amanda, plied them with a little more alcohol, and finally kicked them out when things got a little too ebullient for the low-key club.

It was nearly ten when they finally made their way back to Duncan's loft.

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but what exactly is causing that look on your face?" Duncan looked expectantly at Amanda, who was stretched comfortably across the couch.

"And what look would that be?"

"A cross between the Devil incarnate and a Cheshire cat."

"Ooh, nice," Amanda purred, arching an eyebrow. "It's nothing, really. Just - I'm having a delicious time trying to decide which one of you boys gets to be on top. Conjures up the _best_ mental images, either way."

The brandy in Jim's mouth took an unfortunate detour through his nose, although he could still hear the peals of Amanda's laughter as Duncan thumped him on the back.

"I suppose that answers _that_ question," she said, between chuckles.

"And on that note, I think it would be a good time for you to go home, Amanda," Duncan said in his sternest parental voice, once Jim was again breathing on his own. "I'll call you a cab."

"Don't bother. I'll just take your car, and bring it back in the morning."

"No, you won't," Duncan said, cupping his hand over the phone receiver, in mid-dial. "You're in no condition to drive - especially not _my_ car."

"Aw," Amanda mock-pouted. "You are no fun at all. Still," she said, "I'm sure it's past the time that all good little Boy Scouts should be in bed. After all, it must be nearly eight." She stood and kissed Duncan on the cheek, and Jim, as well - although fleetingly, as Duncan was 'helping' her to the elevator. "I'm going, I'm going. 'Bye, Jim."

"Goodnight, Amanda."

When the elevator disappeared out of view, Duncan sighed. "Sorry about that."

"No, don't apologize," Jim said. "I like her. She's - " He searched for an appropriate word to describe the whirlwind Immortal. "Unique."

"Oh, without a doubt. I think that's probably one of the nicer things that she's been called."

"You love her."

Duncan nodded. "I do. I don't know what it is about us, but - we could just never seem to meet at the right _time_. There's always been something slightly off about the timing between us." He sat down on the arm of Jim's chair. "Including now."

"I am _so_ buzzed," Jim said, with a sigh. He propped his light head on one arm, and looked up at Duncan.

"Meaning?"

"Only that you could have your way with me and I'm in no condition to put up any sort of protest."

Duncan started to chuckle.

"What?" Jim asked, mystified.

"You said almost exactly the same thing to me the first time we spent the night together."

"Really? I don't remember much about that night," Jim said, ruefully.

"I'm not surprised. I think that was part of the point."

"I must have been _really_ drunk to spend the night with you and not make a move."

"You tried," Duncan grinned. "Not very successfully, but I gave you points for the attempt."

"For which I am very grateful, I'm sure." Trying to keep his eyes open, Jim said, "Duncan?"

"Yeah?"

"Bed?"

Duncan grinned again. "I've got a better idea."

* * *

Pressed hard up against the cool, sweating tiles of the shower stall, Jim hissed deeply in his throat as Duncan rubbed lazy circles of soap lather over his back and ass. "That's - just - the - spot," Jim said, feeling every muscle in his body relax.

Or, _almost_ every muscle, anyway.

Duncan's hands moved between Jim's stomach and the wall, soaping his abdomen. Rich lather dripped down over his semi-hard cock, and Jim moaned again, unable to stop himself from reacting volubly to any and every sensation. He pressed back when Duncan's lips attached to the back of his neck.

Duncan pressed against him with the full length of his body, and Jim rested his cheek against the shower wall, eyes closed. It was difficult to decide what to react to next: the hands that were exploring his body expertly - roaming from nipples to navel to cock and back again; the mouth that sucked at his neck and earlobes, biting and kissing and licking in turn; or the body that moved rhythmically, teasingly against his own. Added to that was a warm spray from the shower and the lightly scented soap, plus a delicate humming in Duncan's throat, and the buzz from the alcohol, and Jim was flying on layer upon layer of sensation. It seemed impossible to react to any of it individually, so he gave in and just floated on all of it, his mind and body and senses seemingly on separate but simultaneous paths to nirvana.

His cock finally decided him, however. Duncan's lazy stroking turned more insistent, and as his fist flew over the hardened flesh, Jim couldn't help but become more verbal, more desperate, almost pleading. It wasn't until he was barely on the cusp of his climax that Duncan thrust into him, once, and stayed there, eased by water and soap and the blissful incipient orgasm his sudden penetration triggered in Jim.

" _God_ ," Jim moaned, pinned against the wall, boneless knees held up by the steel shaft piercing his body.

Duncan laughed, mouth wide and avid over his back. "Flattery will get you everywhere, everything, anything you want," he said. He wasn't so calm for long, however; equilibrium somewhat restored, Jim decided it was time to reciprocate. He pushed back against Duncan, and Duncan found himself holding on tight, pushing in hard, taut nipples rubbing against Jim's muscled back, cock trapped in a vortex of heat and stricture. It was good - too good. He tried to steady himself but found it impossible to do anything but thrust into the welcoming heat of Jim's body. All too soon, he was pressed hard against Jim's back, pushing him once again into the wall, panting and just trying to hold on.

* * *

"I can hear you thinking."

Jim turned over on his side. He'd thought that Duncan was long asleep beside him in the bed, but his lover's eyes were open and questioning. "I was just wondering if sex cured hangovers."

"Sounds like a theory that needs more testing." Duncan thrust his tongue deep into Jim's mouth, but after a moment, he pulled back. "That's not really what you were thinking," he said, gently.

Jim sighed, twisting a corner of the sheet. "Methos was here today."

"I know," Duncan said, shifting. "I saw the keys on the table when we came back this afternoon. I didn't want to get into it when Amanda was here."

Jim nodded.

"Was he alone?"

"Yeah."

Duncan rested a hand on Jim's chest. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice low and a frown on his face.

"I think that was going to be _my_ next question."

" _I'm_ fine," Duncan said. "It's you I'm concerned about."

"I guess things didn't exactly work out, between them. Although - " Jim trailed off.

"Although?" Duncan prodded.

"It sounded - according to Methos - as though things worked out the way he expected them to."

It was Duncan's turn to nod. "That sounds like Methos," he said, dryly.

"What does that mean, exactly?"

Duncan sighed, and turned over on his back. "Sometimes, when you're Immortal, you can get used to the idea that everything is impermanent - and, if nothing lasts forever, then the rule seems to especially apply to people." He shrugged.

"But it doesn't have to be that way. I mean, if you know that nothing is forever, wouldn't that make you _want_ to hold on to things for as long as you can?"

"You think that way," Duncan said. "And, so do I. But not everyone does. I don't even think it really makes a difference whether you're Immortal or not. Some people nest, and some people roam. It's always going to be that way."

"And never the twain shall meet."

"I think there are certain exceptions to the rule," Duncan said.

"And sometimes, you should just give in to the rules, because they're rules for a reason."

"That sounds rather defeatist."

"It's not sour grapes," Jim said. "I like being with you. I like coming here. I like you coming to visit me. I like the - _ease_ that I feel with you. I like feeling this good. I feel like - I always thought that something that was worth having had to be _hard_ , you know? And I'm just starting to figure out that it doesn't have to be. It can be good, and it can be right, and you don't have to struggle all the time." He chuckled. "God - anyone would think that I was completely fucked up before I met you."

"Weren't you?" Duncan teased, eyes twinkling.

Jim rolled over, pushing Duncan into the mattress. "You're good," he said. "You're good for me. I like you."

"I like you, too."

"Good," Jim said. He kissed Duncan, deeply. "Now, about testing that hangover theory of mine - "

The End  
MonaR.


End file.
